Comedy review: Reginald D Hunter’s recent race row with the Professional Footballers’ Association has been dismissed by many as just a storm in a teacup.

But already the issues it has raised are working their way into other comics’ sets. Omid Djalili tackles it straight off the bat in this mostly new show – and, as a man who has never shied away from self-mocking ethnic stereotyping, the row couldn’t have a more fitting analyst. When he wonders if he should have been running race workshops for the FA, you can’t help but imagine what a useful thing that would be.

Those topical reflections kick off a neat first half in which Djalili is in measured, reflective mood, unafraid to show his smarts. The hypocrisy of organised religion is analysed through the prism of Iranian football commentary; an inspiring quote from Eleanor Roosevelt works its way cleverly into a mischievous gag about the Miliband brothers. There’s even a riposte to the atheism of his comedy peers (‘how can a painting know its painter?’ wonders Djalili, a follower of the Bahá’í faith who has always embraced the notion of spirituality with consideration and care). The silly, meanwhile – a few choice accents and an airing of his singing voice – is judiciously interspersed.

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It’s not all perfect – jokes about the Olympics are a year too late (though at least bring back nostalgic memories) and his thoughts on Thatcher’s legacy need to be developed, which he has plenty of time to do over this four-week residency. But in all, this is a confident, engaging, thoughtful show, and a reflection of how much this 47-year-old has matured over the years, like a smooth, complex whisky. Did someone say National Treasure?